Hold on to what is good even if it is a handful of earth.
Hold on to what you believe even if it is a tree which stands by itself.
Hold on to what you must do even if it is a long way from here.
Hold on to life even when it is easier letting go.
Hold on to my hand even when I have gone away from you.
- Pueblo Blessing

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Tuesday, Jan. 27, 2004 - 1:48 a.m.

To see some sample sketches of what I was working on tonight click here to jump down to the bottom

Having a little down.

(aside: I cannot believe how much this whole incident of someone forwarding excepts of my diary, with a link to "read more here", to people mentioned in this diary, and people who know me personally, has affected how I feel about writing here. I cringe. I think of all the people I don't want knowing when I am sad and down. All the people whom I might want to share my experience of anger at Bush with, or my take on the cannibal penis guy, who might be dissecting what I wrote about my insecurities, or dissecting what I wrote about things in my life, figuring out who all the pseudonyms are and passing on what I say.

My therapist said it is a tempest in a teapot. That it is my diary, and it is my right to write whatever I think, feel, hear, or said into it. Any data I wish to include or not. As it is my diary.

By definition a diary is subjective. It is personal.

I personally LOVE subjective and personal. I remember history when it is written first person and has emotion in it. I learned more in one historical romance novel about Anne Bolelyn, about Henry the Eighth and his courts, than I did in any history class.

I want people to be able to come to my diary and read firstperson experiences. Not a point by point dry recounting. But all the emotions and messy tragedy of human life, love, hatred and happiness that accompany what we read and hear and experience.

I don't mind that people in my life do so, or strangers, but I want them to understand that it is my diary that they have the privilege of reading. Therefore when I say I am feeling shitty, well, I told my diary. I didnt blab it at a party, or email all my friends. People had to be interested enough to read it for themselves. And then hopefully keep it to themselves. Even if they pass it on, I would hope that they would pass it on for diary reasons, such as "gee, here is the personal heartbreak of someone who has gone through infertility... I will recommend this entry to one of my friends who is going through the same thing",

NOT that they would pass it on to show what a fragile messed up shit I am to someone who dislikes me, or to show that I had a bad time at someone's party, or to show that I questioned another friend's loyalty to me. That is just gossipspilling and creating havoc.

Maybe if they read I plan to off myself tonight, they would pass it onto someone who cared enough, or lived close enough to check on me. I dunno. But one has to realize it is a diary. It is not the whole story, not an objective story, but a momentary singular point of view take on a life and a situation.

But I have no idea who did this. And now people are saying "why didnt you come to me?" well, I wrote that I had heard something that "if it is true" bothered me. IE I wrote it BEFORE I checked it out, as I was writing out my feelings of new discomfort and uncertainty, my feelings of "what if".

If I wrote "I was told I might have cancer", I would sure the hell hope that would be taken as a jumping point to where I am right now... when I was told something that MIGHT be true. I would hope that all my friends and family would not be sent to my diary site.

My diary is where I write so I DONT spread gossip. So I DONT blow up at people, so I DONT break down and cry in public, or accuse people I feel resentful of. It is a gift that people can read it. So they can know that they too are not always certain of their friends' loyalty, they are not always free of anger and hatred, resentment and they are not the only ones who dissolve into depressive tears alone with a keyboard in a cold house.

I could, as some suggested, write in a paper book that I keep in my sock drawer. I have done so at times, and I sometimes do still. But I need support and comfort and perhaps just the idea that someone hears me. I guess that is why people go to confession. Or talk to their pets, or pray to a god. When I am alone here crying or angry or feeling paranoid about my friends and community, I still feel alone and unsupported and unheard when I write in a paper diary. I work alone. I live alone. Most of my best friends are in couples, have small children, crazy work schedules. Most live between an hour by subway or several hours by plane away from me.

I interact with hundreds of people a day in my business, my going out to shows, coffeeshops to draw, run a rental bldg etc. And I can bitch to them, or bounce off of them as I have done in the past and sometimes still do. But they might not see me except for every afternoon at 4pm when I walk my dog. They have no clue of my business life, my love life, my fetish life, my comics etc etc.

And here on my diary, I can put all of that. Anyone reading for more than a week will hopefully get a semi-rounded view of who I am. Not what I look like in a rush on the way from the store, and that's it. But I guess that I ask to be treated with care, or at least that this diary be treated as personal disclosure.

And I wish I knew that the person who sent out those emails wouldve contacted me. I mightve changed the entry if they thought it was damaging to someone they cared about. Or I mightve added a footnote next to the "damaging" information.

And just for anyone who read that entry which was forwarded to my ex, and to the other person involved (who had the nicety to speak to me), and who knows else, ... it turns out that the information given to me by my ex, which made me doubt and cast suspicion on the other person involved, was actually totally not true. That in fact it was the opposite. He, who is a businessperson in the know and therefore not a purveyer of heresay in this matter, but someone whose word I believed (except insofar as I know he dislikes the person he said it about), told me that the other person had asked for something from the business.

Interestingly enough, exactly the opposite was true. The other person was OFFERED and refused, NOT demanded something. And has the emails to prove the actual happenings and order of them. So the info I got from my ex was a direct lie making someone look very bad indeed. No wonder he called me up to tell me I was indiscrete by writing about it here. Because it showed that he was a liar, not that I had divulged privy information. Besides the fact, he absolutely had no reason to give me the information anyways, being business information, and having nothing to do with our conversation, which was about how I felt excluded from going for coffee or dinner with someone.***Wench's note: actually since I wrote this I learned that he was partially right, and SHE partially lied to me when defending herself on this accusation... what a mess of backstabbing lying obfuscating self-serving people. I am not sorry about anything said here about anyone... the more people lie the more galling the truth is when it comes out. Just fess up for god's sake and stop calling eachother names... btw they BOTH used the same names to put each other down. Lovely. Anyways, this whole mess fed into the death of the Fetish Cafe here in town, so it makes me very sad. RIP.***

Wow. So. The fallout. Everyone can see the new warning at the top of the page. And the fact I have not even used pseudonyms in what I just wrote. I feel quite bummed. I think about everyone's diary I read. And what would happen in their lives if the people they bitched about, or speculated about, or described their lovelives with, or fantasized about were pointed to their diary via a quote and an email link. All of diaryland would be gone. And I love diaryland. I love how people talk about their good days and their bad days, their hopes and their fears.

Well, this was supposed to be an aside. But I think I have asided myself out of writing what actually was making me cry and upset. That can wait. I'll go back to having more Postum to warm my cold typing fingies, and drawing my sketches.

And you can go and read the previous entry of today of only about two paragraphs, where I send you to one diary, and one funny webpage. Go there. Thanks.

and thanks to everyone who leaves me a note. I know I wrote" short and snappy" etc, but I was just being alliterative, like "Wit and Wisdom of the Wench"... hell, most of what I write is not wit nor wisdom. Just blabble. So I expect blabble notes and comments too. "Hi! have a good day" is as good as some brilliant entreatise. So yeah, thanks.

ciao. hugs to me, big hugs and warm toes

and maybe someday kisses and someone who will stand beside me.

but I think that is too much to hope for.

me. wenchie.

5:43 am Something is wrong when you start to consider getting to bed at 6am "early", 7am "on time" and 8am "a wee bit late" and 10am "staying up late" hehe. Well, it is still almost early, but I have to get up around noon to drive my doggies to the vet out of town to check her hips. She totally pulls herself up out of a sit with her front legs, like some parapalegic in a chair. Oh dear. Wish us luck. In the meantime I leave you with these small snips of the large (13+" square) sketches I did tonight. The first is about kids who will or won't eat peas. The second is from a parade where kids do or do not wear hats. No that is not a kid, it is a teddy bear. duh! :)

Copyright 2004 Wench77

Here is my horoscope for Monday, January 26:

You're attracted to pure, fragile things. Strength is evident in the extent of your self-control. If you must get wild and careless, wait until leaving the clean room or quiet zone.

Well I rather like that quote. Hehe. The extent of my self-control huh. Hmm. Well, I shall ponder that in my sleep. zzzz

Hugs and warm flannel sheets to me, wenchie and all of you.

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previous meanderings - future past

Goodbye Michael. May your next life be kinder to you. - Thursday, Jun. 25, 2009
Taking Care of Your Cows - Thursday, Jun. 25, 2009
Saint Joseph robs the cradle and eats spaghetti - Sunday, Jun. 14, 2009
sticky notes and broken irises - Friday, Jun. 12, 2009
The FOODCOMMANDER - Monday, Jun. 08, 2009

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